goy (Goy?) The truth to the goy You know the one that ate up like boy Stepping with a step, keeping with a kept Making an appearance with a notty-head
like Kenneth McGriff Reincarnated put me in Queens and give me a strip A couple red tops while the feds watchin Infiltrate get a head shot Compton
I like the sound of St Petersburg bells banging in my head The night train rattle and shake and rumble through that cabin bunk bed Now Sigmund said something
sauce You stand against the wall Don't play wit Lord at all You dealin wit some now you pissin down your leg and got a gun against your head you know
Luger Dro puffer, cheese come up, when we on the track jack Hit you in the head, with the gat, 'til your skull crack Blood gushin', head rushin', act
]. It's dedicated to you, nigga. [Chorus: DJ Paul]x1 They wanna dress like Wanna sound like Wanna be like Ride like Get high like Make cheese like The
ty green U.S.. Marshal at my folks house want to kill me dead Wanna see me in a pine box bullet in my head I'm was like "I ain't did shit why you hatin
a pimp Reach Back Like a pimp Slap the Hoe [Juicy J] Now I ain't Don Juan with the magic wand wand but I can break a bitch for the cheese and the funds
[Chorus: repeat 2X] I love a ghetto ass chick, break down rings for me If I would let her shoot, she'll count up this cheese for me It's going down like
] Well since I'm on bin laden let me tell you a story Bout these three pussy rappers who couldn't do nothing for me Gave a whole lot of cheese said I
they ass in [Verse 3] (Project Pat) Whachu doin' round hea? My nigga I gotta get ya Fresh outta jail-ie, my mind on bailin', so I split ya Head to the
up off your toes, and get my six-four ? My name, you bounced, so you might as well break bread And only Dulo niggas know, whats the head My name is
the blow Rap for the love of money, stack it up once mo' Going once, going twice, got the O for the LOW Got my cheese in the soil, tryin' to make my
Proscrito e inadaptado Condemnado a basura y sobras Soltado de un plato y cayo en un sarten Batido con leche y grasa Nariz, orejas, labios y parapados
your rules (That's right) Good fellas, you know you can't touch us dudes Don't push us 'cause we're close to the edge We're tryin' not to lose our heads
unfolds that the good die young Please, God, let a bad boy die old Do you think I wanna lie cold Or better yet have many shots come close to the head
't got no business in this blizzard They just kibbitz, here's five shots to visit, blaka Blowing bullet holes sizes of door knockers Three headed for my chest